


cut through the clouds

by liquidsky



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, First Time, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Post-Endgame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-06 02:35:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18841882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liquidsky/pseuds/liquidsky
Summary: Steve and Thor can't sleep.(Alternatively: Steve Rogers Getting The Dick He Deserves.)





	cut through the clouds

**Author's Note:**

> you know what? the motto here is _write the smut you wanna see in the world_ , fellas.

Steve can't sleep. It's not that unusual, especially not lately. Everyone's back home safe, but the nightmares haven't stopped yet (Steve doesn't think they will). With a sigh, he gets up from the bed and tries to stretch, arms above his head, hips cocked. It doesn't help, he's still painfully tense, body pulled taut over the weird sense of loss that is still ringing in his ears. 

Though never exactly _silent_ , the house is quiet in the early hours of the morning as Steve pads barefoot (and dressed in nothing but pajamas) to the communal kitchen. He's glad they have it. Tony helped restore everything after Steve pulled him back from their past-now-future. The house looks different in many ways, smaller, less imposing. It makes up for that in warmth, in the clear signs of their lives all interwoven. He can see a pair of Natasha's high heeled boots shoved next to the door, some of Wanda's notebooks and Bucky's novels placed half on top of each other on the counter. 

Sitting in front of them is Thor. He's got his head resting on his hands, hair tied in soft braids that cascade down his shoulders. It's longer than it used to be, and it looks nice. Steve's sure Thor heard him come in, but he doesn't lift his head in greeting.

Steve plops down on the seat next to him, and only then does Thor glance up. 

"Can't sleep?" Steve asks.

It's pretty obvious. He looks tired, eyes droopy. Steve's not quite in the know about the particulars of the self-titled Asgardians of the Galaxy's latest mission, but it's not hard to guess that things have gone (if only slightly) to shit. Nebula's probably doing whatever it is that she usually does in one of the guest rooms, and Rocket's snores can easily be heard from the kitchen. Quill is nowhere to be seen (Steve has no guesses at where he could possibly be, all that he knows is that he must have taken the ship with him). 

Thor, whose smile doesn't quite reach his eyes, is dressed in a faded Captain America t-shirt that stretches painfully tight across his arms. Steve glances down at Thor's legs, finds that he's wearing loose boxer shorts (with a quirky pineapple print on them) and not much else. He's just as distracting as always, though that's not something Steve allows himself to admit to very often. 

Thor shrugs. "Bad dreams."

"You too, huh." Steve muses. Thor gives him a sympathetic wince. "If it makes it any better, I think we all have them." 

Thor sighs. "It doesn't."

"Worse?" 

"Yes, actually." 

Steve grins despite himself. Misery loves company, or something. He tilts his head at Thor, deliberately curious. 

Thor quirks an eyebrow. "We could try to distract ourselves." 

"Yeah?" Steve says. "Doing what?" 

"Films?" Thor suggests. 

Steve tries not to react in any way. Thor's taste in movies is notoriously sketchy, and Steve's not about to fuck himself over like that. 

He tries to look sheepish. "Don't think I have the attention span for that now."

Thor shrugs. "What do you suggest?" 

"We could play Scrabble." 

Thor squints. "You'll win if we play English words only. I'll win if we play all possible languages."

"Well," Steve pauses. "Fine, no Scrabble."

"We could play–Valkyrie liked those–drinking games?" Thor says. 

"Can't get drunk." Steve points out.

"I might have some Asgardian liquor in my bag." Thor says. "If you want to go fetch." 

"Sure." Steve agrees, truly for no other reason than that it's four a.m. and there are probably worse things to do than getting drunk with Thor. He's done it once before and it was fine. He can probably survive another go. 

Thor's bag, thankfully, is not far: he's got all his shit crammed on top of one of the armchairs, which Steve's sure will annoy Rhodey immensely when he sees it, but he can't be bothered to get on Thor's case about it. 

"Here we go." Steve says, placing the dark, rusty bottle on the counter. 

Thor grabs it, pulls the lid off with his mouth. Steve tries to pretend he's not affected by the overall effect. Kind of hard, considering. 

He sighs. "What are we playing?" 

Thor seems brighter already, back to how he usually is (larger than life, overwhelming in the best way possible).

"True or false?" Thor says. 

Steve raises his eyebrows. "You mean truth or dare?" 

"No. True or false. I tell you something, you guess whether it's true or not, you get it wrong, you drink." 

Steve nods. That seems straightforward enough. 

Thor pushes the bottle into Steve's hands. "You first."

"Fine. I've never left the country."

Thor scoffs. "We went to space, I was there."

Steve grins. "I meant on Earth." 

"Should've said that if it's what you meant." Thor points out. "I've been alive for over fifteen hundred years." 

"Shit." Steve says. "True?" 

Thor smiles. "Yes."

"That's a long time." Steve comments. 

"It is."

"My favorite food is pizza." Steve says. 

"False." 

Steve's grin grows ridiculously wide. "True." 

"You're a man of taste." Thor tells him, grabbing the bottle from Steve's hand and taking a generous gulp. 

"Sure am." He agrees. 

They play too many rounds. Thor's favorite movie is Mad Max (true). Steve's favorite modern band is Mumford & Sons (false), Thor's never seen a sunrise on Earth (false). Steve's never tried McDonald's (true), Thor's addicted to coffee (true), Steve is terrible at math (false). 

They're way past the point of drunk when Steve admits he's terrified of being alone and Thor tells him that he is constantly afraid he's a failure. It builds weirdly, between laughing and sharing too much, jumping from too serious to hilariously absurd. 

Steve doesn't mind it. He feels buzzed, thoughts calm in a way that he doesn't get to experience often. Thor looks radiant, standing in the middle of the kitchen in his endearing outfit trying and failing to laugh quietly. Steve is warm all over, from the tip of his toes to his the top of his head.

"I haven't had sex in seven years." Thor says, in-between choked bursts of laughter. 

Steve shoves him to the side. "False." 

"True." Thor counters. 

He passes the bottle to Steve, but Steve doesn't have to pick it up to know it's empty. 

"Haven't had sex in, uh. Forever?" Says Steve, stumbling lightly over the words. 

Thor rolls his eyes. "What does that mean?"

"That I never had it." Steve tells him. 

He's impatient, almost. It's funny that he's talking about this, so he snorts, finding the scrunch of Thor's nose simultaneously sweet and amusing. 

Thor narrows his eyes. "False?" 

Steve shakes his head. Thor gives him an incredulous look. 

"Okay." Thor says. "Why not?" 

"Didn't want to?" Steve muses. "Then I wanted to but no one else did. Then people did and I didn't. And now it's just. Not on the list of priorities."

Thor pats him on the shoulder. It would've been a subdued pat if it were anyone else, but from Thor it feels almost like being on the receiving end of a windstorm.

"Should be." Thor comments. 

Steve nods. "Okay. You too."

"We should make it a priority. Right now." Says Thor. 

Frowning, Steve says. "I'm not going out." 

"That's not what I mean." Thor tells him. 

"What do you–" Steve starts. He looks at Thor, takes in the flush of his cheeks and the wild _something_ in his gaze. Steve kind of wants to drown in it, whatever it is. 

"I mean us. Should put it as a priority. Together. Now." Thor says. 

Steve's mouth falls open. "You–are you. That's. You want us to fuck?" 

Thor actually looks startled by Steve's vocabulary, which is uncalled for not only because he's definitely heard him say worse, but also because there's really no more appropriate word for what he just suggested.

"That's what I meant, yes." 

Steve stares at him, caught once again by the astounding pros and cons of the serum: he got drunk, which is quite the novelty, but the effects of Thor's mighty Asgardian liquor are fading faster by the second, and Steve could use the extra courage. 

He doesn't say anything for a moment.

Unsurprisingly, Thor waits him out, watching him with open amusement.

It's pretty striking, as far as looks go, and Steve has noticed it before about a hundred times, to the point where even Sam's commented on it (only privately, once, when they were alone in an elevator and he told Steve in no uncertain terms to pick up his jaw from the floor).

Ultimately, the question of whether he wants to fuck Thor in the middle of the night (or at any given moment in time) in the comfort of his home (or anywhere, really) while he looks fond and warm (or literally any other way, ever) is no question at all, and he's springing up from his chair to loop both of his arms around Thor's neck and kiss him square on the mouth between one breath and the next.

Thor kisses back eagerly, licking into Steve's mouth with the kind of abandon Steve has only ever seen in films. The feeling is crisp like New York winter air, falling over him and leaving goosebumps on his skin. He sighs into the kiss, and Thor pulls away to nip at his lips. 

He grips Steve's waist tightly, runs the flat of his palms up his back, pulls him closer and closer until they're melting heatedly into each other, lips meeting, chests pressed together. Thor pushes Steve against the counter, lifts him up by the thighs with an easy strength that takes Steve's breath away. 

Steve drags his hands down Thor's back, under his shirt. He has the fleeting thought that he wants to draw him someday, the sharp definition of his muscles, wonders how they might look under the right lighting. Steve sighs, lips trailing a wet path down Thor's jaw to suck at the skin of his throat. It might leave a mark, but not for long, so Steve tries as hard as he can. Thor gasps loudly and Steve grabs a handful of his ass to pull him more firmly against him. 

"Shirt off," Steve breathes against Thor's skin. 

He complies easily, moving away to take off his t-shirt and Steve's too. Steve groans loudly when Thor leans back into his space—his hands wrapping tightly around Steve's thighs to lift him up to a better angle again. Steve is not sure what he expected, but whatever it was doesn't hold a candle to the brush of Thor's body against his, his hard-on pressing firmly against Steve's in a way that just about has his vision swimming. 

He's hot all over, breathing heavily, loud enough that Thor has to shove him harder against the counter so he can use one of his hands to muffle the cacophony of sound Steve keeps making. 

Steve whines high-pitched against Thor's palm when Thor pushes his other hand against the line of Steve's hard-on through his shorts. It's been a while since Steve had last devoted any real thought to what his first time would be like, maybe back before the future, when he used to fantasize about romantic love as the only thing that mattered, the thing he'd always be in pursuit of. Nowadays, scarred by a life of near-death experiences and constant loss, he finds that he'll gladly take love however it comes (in companionship, shared laughter, long days and longer nights, bruised bodies and heavy limbs, choosing to fight for each other again and again).

The warmth of Thor's familiar shape enveloping him feels as much like love as he's ever had it, like trusting someone to catch you on the other end of a free fall. He inhales against the pressure of Thor's fingers as they sneak their way past Steve's waistband, curling around his length and stroking leisurely. 

Steve's heart speeds up in his chest, and he bucks forward into Thor's grip. It doesn't help–Thor pulls away right in time, laughing softly at the sound that leaves Steve's mouth. 

He presses the pads of his fingers to Steve's lips until Steve opens his mouth, pushes them in to drag across Steve's tongue. 

His long-forgotten fantasies don't even begin to compare to the weight of Thor's hands on him, how blinding it feels to have him touch Steve as if he knows all the right places. Steve sighs, caught in a daze of building pleasure. Thor takes his wet fingers off of Steve's mouth, runs them down Steve's chest with a curious look in his eyes. Steve shivers, and Thor smiles. 

By the time Thor's fingers reach the dimple on Steve's back, Steve's feeling almost hysterical, pushing in and out of Thor's grip with the brightest sort of restlessness. Thor kisses his cheek, brushes their faces together tenderly – the contrast of that to the firm grip he's got on him makes Steve's knees go weak.

"Turn around." Thor mutters, the words slightly muffled by Steve's cheek. 

Steve does, easily, shifting on Thor's embrace without a second of thought. He's not leading here, which is in and of itself as thrilling as anything. 

Thor fits himself against Steve's back, the tattoo of his heart a steady beat as he goes back to jerking him off. Steve hears more than sees as Thor sucks on his own fingers before dragging them downward. He sucks in a sharp breath, chokes on nothing as Thor presses in. He groans, embarrassingly loud, and Thor bites his earlobe before shushing him softly. 

"You'll wake everyone up." Thor says. 

Steve, wishing on every god for this to never end, forces his eyes closed. "Don't care."

"No?" Thor asks him, pushing his finger more firmly into Steve and tightening his grip with his other hand. 

Steve's hand flies down to take hold of Thor's wrist. "Could wake anyone up, just don't–don't fucking stop."

"Don't worry." Thor assures him, speeding up his pace. "I won't." 

Steve feels his toes curl, a growing heat simmering up his body, vision whiting out at the edges. Thor pulls his fingers off only to go back in with three, and Steve keens loudly until Thor bites him sharply on the shoulder.

Biting his lips, Steve reaches back for him, feels as Thor pushes his own length against Steve in a rhythm that feels off-beat but nonetheless brilliant. He's got no words for what it feels like, the movement of their bodies together, Thor's hands on him, in him, all over. 

It feels electric, and it takes Steve looking down to realize that that's because it _is_ , lightning is rippling down Thor's arms, burning and just the right amount of painful against Steve's navel. He's caught in a storm, breaths uneven, eyes closing shut, mouth falling open as he lets himself go.

Thor does, too, lightning sparking brightly against Steve's skin as he tenses up. Thor presses his forehead against the back of Steve's neck in a way that feels too soft for how Steve's body is vibrating with electricity, every inch of him tender and oversensitive. 

Thor pulls away from him, so Steve turns around to face him on shaky legs. It dawns on him just how quiet everything is, without the rush of his own blood ringing in his ear.

"You've got–" Thor starts, pointing to the burn marks across Steve's stomach. "Sorry." 

Steve can't stop himself from grinning. "Don't worry about it." 

Thor tilts his head at him, brows raised, but Steve, surprising even himself, doesn't flush. He feels content, deeply settled and comfortable in his body. It's nice. 

Steve's smile grows even wider. "We should prioritize more often."

"I'd like that." Thor agrees. He smirks, reaching around Steve to wipe the counter clean with his t-shirt. "Maybe not in the kitchen next time."

Steve glances around. "Yeah, maybe not."

**Author's Note:**

> this is unbeta'd, so any and all mistakes are my own, feel free to point out in the comments if you find anything that is too annoying to ignore. 
> 
> the title is a line from _cut to the feeling_ by carly rae jepsen, because of course it is. 
> 
> thank you for reading if you did and have a lovely day!


End file.
